o you want from me? What?" Liam stood over her, his shadow swallowing the bed. His tie was gone. His jacket too. Only the predator remained. "Are you playing innocent?" His voice was low,

t would I do without you," she whispered to the empty room. She kissed the screen. Relief let her sleep. A few hours of dreamless, painless dark. She woke to a quiet house and a calmer stomach. Hope made her hungry. She padded downstairs, grabbed cookies from the kitchen, and flopped onto the couch. The remote was cool in her hand. She turned on the TV for noise. The noise stopped her breathing. "-breaking news. At 4:50 PM local time on September 3rd, Flight GH-217 bound for Barcelona crashed shortly after takeoff. 200 souls on board. Eight survivors have been pulled from the wreckage, but intense fires are hampering rescue efforts-" The plate slipped. Cookies and ceramic exploded across her hardwood floor. "That's..." Her voice didn't sound like hers. "That's Rose's flight. Right?" The question hung in the air. No one answered. "No. No, it can't be." Her hands shook as she grabbed her phone, scrolled back to Mark's text from yesterday. The e-ticket. Flight GH-217. Departure: 4:30 PM. September 3rd. Reality hit like a truck. Chloe's fingers tangled in her hair and _pulled._ The neat curls she'd spent an hour on that morning turned wild. A sob tore out of her, raw and ugly. She slid off the couch and onto the fluffy rug, folding into herself as if she could disappear. The phone vibrated against her thigh. She answered without looking. "Chloe? Chloe, it's Daisy. Are you okay? Where are you? I just saw the news about Rose-" "I- I'm n-not okay," Chloe choked out. Each word was a shard of glass. "Daisy, I'm not-" "I know, honey. I know. God, I know." Daisy's voice cracked, then steadied. "She's my best friend too. Listen to me. Stay where you are. I'm leaving the office now. I'll be there in an hour. Don't move, okay?" Chloe could only hum. A broken sound. The three of them - Chloe, Rose, D